


in my space

by yoogiboobi



Series: a place to return to [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Description Heavy, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, sleepy reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27048001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoogiboobi/pseuds/yoogiboobi
Summary: Atsumu runs a finger over that last sentence and reads it once more. He can picture Shinsuke saying it;I made food for you and also, I miss you, all in the same breath.—Miya Atsumu comes home at three in the morning after being out of the country for a month.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Series: a place to return to [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974127
Comments: 30
Kudos: 203





	in my space

**Author's Note:**

> this work is set in the same universe as my previous atsukita, part one of this series.

— 

One in the morning on a Friday, and Miya Atsumu is driving home.

It’s been two weeks since he’d gotten on a plane and flew across the ocean to play on foreign courts, against foreign teams; almost twenty hours since he’d last slept, and three hours since he’d landed back in Japan. Technically, it’s still Thursday for him.

He’s got an apartment of his own in the city; a perk that comes with his job. Had he chosen to crash there for the night, he’d be in bed by now. But the place doesn’t feel much like home, with its bare walls and empty bedroom. Spending the night in the city pales in comparison to where he’d rather be.

Streetlights blur past the car windows, painting the view in electric yellows over dark hues of blue and purple. It’s a quiet night for such a big city. Cold is beginning to settle in, and the people retreat into the warmth of their homes. Windows shut, blinds drawn, the city sleeps.

Forty minutes on the road, and the tight mesh of buildings and streets begins to loosen.

One hour, and the mountains grow closer, rising up into the starless sky. It gets darker; if the city had looked like it’d been sleeping for the night, then the world out here looks like it has fallen into a deep, millennial slumber. Off the highway, Atsumu takes the lone paved road that slithers past sleepy clusters of houses, sparsely lit up by old lamp posts that blink by at a much slower pace than they did in the heart of the brightly lit city.

One hour and thirty minutes later, just before an old camphor tree with a hollow trunk and thick roots that open cracks on the pavement, there’s a turn off the road; no signs, no known destination, the dirt road seems to lead to nothing but darkness. But Atsumu knows where he’s going, and, twenty minutes later, he sees it, coming into view around the edge of the surrounding forest—Shinsuke’s house.

He parks the car on a clearing between the trees, next to an old pick up truck that belongs to anyone and no one. It’s colder and more humid than it had been in the city when he opens the door and steps outside. The wind carries the smell of green moss and damp, rough tree bark. He gets his big suitcase out of the trunk and slings his loyal duffle bag over his shoulder, then locks the car and walks past the low iron gates, up to the front door, carrying the full weight of the suitcase in his hands so as not to wake any sleeping beings.

It’s eerily silent outside. An owl hoots in the distance, a fox screams. A moth clumsily flies past Atsumu, towards the nearest light source—the light that has been left on above the door, welcoming not only Atsumu, but about two handfuls of nocturnal insects as well.

It’s not the only light that’s been left on, however, Atsumu notices. Next to the door, dim, warm light shines from the kitchen window. He recognizes it as the one situated above the stove. Everything else is off, but he knows better than to hope for Shinsuke to still be awake, waiting for him. Shinsuke’s days start with the sunrise during the week—he’s been in bed for some time now.

Atsumu slides the front door open and toes his shoes off after tucking both the suitcase and the duffle bag against the wall, next to the genkan area, to be dealt with in the morning. It’s only when he enters the kitchen to turn the light off that he realizes it’s been left on for a reason—on the stone counter next to the stove, there is an open notebook with a message written at the top of the page, in Shinsuke’s handwriting. It reads,

 _Atsumu, there is food in the fridge if you feel like eating. I cooked it this evening._ _  
_ _Or you can eat it tomorrow at lunch too, if you prefer._

_I think I missed you more today than I did over the past four weeks combined._

Atsumu runs a finger over that last sentence and reads it once more. He can picture Shinsuke saying it; _I made food for you and also, I miss you_ , all in the same breath. He’s grown accustomed to the first part, ever grateful for the fact that one of the many ways Shinsuke loves to take care of him is by cooking him food. The second part, not so much. Missing each other when they’re apart will never feel like habit. It hits even harder when Atsumu knows that Shinsuke doesn’t express it in words all that often.

Atsumu’s teeth clamp down on his bottom lip. He knows what Shinsuke means, too. His return flight had been scheduled to land at midday, which meant he would have been able to welcome Shinsuke home after work, as if he had never left. But heavy winds on the other side of the world had delayed his departure, and it’d been those hours that wore them down the most. Atsumu, wasting away at a foreign airport; Shinsuke, returning to an empty house that wasn’t supposed to be empty.

Atsumu turns the light off, a bit more abruptly than he’d intended. The sound of the switch bounces off the walls. He hasn’t eaten in a few hours but it’s nearly three in the morning and he’s not hungry, so he tiptoes his way out of the kitchen. He’s got more urgent matters to attend to.

He digs for his toiletry bag in his duffle bag and goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face and neck. It’s a poor substitute for a shower, but the house is old, the pipes like to sing, and some of the walls are literally paper thin; he’ll save it for the morning. He strips out of his clothes and stuffs them in the laundry bag in the corner. Then, in only his underwear, shuts the bathroom light off and slips inside the bedroom, in complete darkness and silence.

A weak sliver of moonlight comes in from the window. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to adjust. On the bed, under their puffy comforter, Shinsuke sleeps. Only the top of his head is visible. At the foot of the bed, on the side where Atsumu sleeps, there is an old shirt and a pair of thin cotton pants laid out for him; he pulls them on. Even the sound of fabric brushing against bare skin feels too loud for the quietude of the room.

He rounds the bed, tired feet soft on the tatami flooring. The mattress gives under his body when he lowers himself onto it; the bed frame remains blissfully silent. They’re recent purchases, both the mattress and the bed, barely a year old. Up until then, Shinsuke had spent his entire life sleeping on futons—and a handful of nights spent on the (extremely expensive and ergonomic) mattress at Atsumu’s apartment in the city had fundamentally changed that. Sleep had been great; the sex had been better. Whether or not that particular detail had played any part in Shinsuke’s change of heart is still unclear.

It’s only when his head hits the pillow that he feels the full weight of his exhaustion; an entire day of travelling and not sleeping finally catch up to him. His limbs sink into the mattress like lead. A bone-deep sigh, his ribcage expands and his shoulders unwind. His back unfurls, and, one by one, every one of his vertebrae align back into their rightful place. Tension gives way to boneless exhaustion.

Next to him, Shinsuke sleeps, still. Atsumu looks at the vague silhouette of the back of his head and watches the duvet move with his steady breathing. He wants to reach out, kiss his hair and feel him close—and right now, in this moment, for the first time in a month, _he’s able to_. But as much as he wants to pull Shinsuke against himself and bury his face in his hair, he also knows he’ll wake him if he does it. So he settles for sidling up to Shinsuke’s back and trying not to jostle him to much.

One hand drapes over Shinsuke’s hip. Lips press a feathery light kiss to the top of his head. Where Atsumu’s side of the bed had been cold, Shinsuke’s warmth envelopes him from head to toe under the covers the closer to him he gets; the pillow and sheets smell like him, too—welcoming, comforting, familiar, a stark contrast to the hotel beds Atsumu had slept on for the past weeks.

Another sigh, and Atsumu closes his eyes; feels like he’s got everything he could ever hope for right here, within his reach, in an old countryside house, in a dark room, in a soft bed, in Shinsuke’s space. No matter how many times he leaves, no matter how long he stays away for, this is where he begins and ends.

His consciousness starts to leave him. Little by little, like clouds rolling down a mountain, sleep creeps up on him.

But then—Shinsuke stirs.

He seems to register the added warmth first as he leans back onto the broad expanse of Atsumu’s chest. Then, the hand on his waist, which he covers with his own for a moment, just before he turns around in Atsumu’s hold. Atsumu snaps back into wakefulness and lets Shinsuke adjust to the new presence beside him on his own terms.

Instinctively, Shinsuke huddles closer, tucks his head under Atsumu’s chin, and buries his face against the curve of his neck. An arm wraps around Atsumu’s middle and brings them closer, while his other hand comes to rest over his heartbeat. His mouth mumbles something indiscernible and his lips snap a couple of times. He’s not entirely awake; just barely conscious enough to do what he’s done countless times in the past, like molding himself into Atsumu’s hold has become second nature to him.

Atsumu welcomes him in by doing what comes naturally to him as well. He spreads his knees apart so Shinsuke can fit a thigh inbetween, careful to keep the cold soles of his feet away from Shinsuke’s warm skin. He slips an arm through the crook of his neck and shoulder, pressing him closer, as his other hand dips below the hem of Shinsuke’s shirt and settles on the small of his back, feeling the smooth, bare skin there—all of him is so warm.

His eyes close again. He whispers into Shinsuke’s hair, unsure if he’s conscious enough to hear, unsure if he’s conscious enough himself to articulate the words, unsure if either of them are going to remember this come morning.

“ _Missed you too_.”

The words—the feelings—had sat deep within his chest. The weight of it all eases up when he speaks, when he feels the familiar shape of Shinsuke between his arms. The reply comes a few heartbeats later, in the shape of sleepy mumbles and soft puffs of air against his neck.

“ _Welcome home._ ”

In just a few hours, Shinsuke will rise with the sun and head to work. He’ll take as much care not to wake Atsumu as Atsumu had taken not to wake him. Atsumu will have the day off and he’ll spend it doing the laundry, pulling weeds from the garden, picking fruit, and dealing with minor work-related paperwork. Shinsuke will come home mid-afternoon, and Atsumu will be there to welcome him with a bear hug and as many kisses as Shinsuke desires.

Then, they’ll have the weekend to catch up on a month’s worth of being apart.

But for now, they sleep.

For now, they are home.

—

**Author's Note:**

> i could’ve cut this fic in half but i wanted to focus on the fact that atsumu drove for two hours from the city to the countryside, at one in the morning, after a ten hour flight, just so he could sleep next to shinsuke—the urge and subsequent bliss/relief of returning home to his bed and to his loved one after being away for such a long time, is what i hoped to capture, but i'm not sure i succeeded. i think i got a bit lost in this world and let it drag on for too long, so it might be a bit boring for anyone else who isn’t me. even so, i'd love to know your thoughts.
> 
> i'm on [twitter ♡](https://twitter.com/yoongoboongi) | [graphic for this work](https://twitter.com/yoongoboongi/status/1320143811776008193?s=20)


End file.
